From light to light, breath seeks a path
to brilliance unencumbered. What we endure
proves more than survival. To be spared—
really, what are the chances? No one’s anointed.
Tempered in leaves and ash, brine yields a coarse
and smoky salt. Time has worked this way too
on the planes of your face. From darkness
hammered on the anvils of the past, how
you remake the world each time determines
how you rise. Your first home's receded into
the archive, so you tend to think any venture
could be a homing. You choose to go out again
into the wide world, believing your life
is both the oldest and the newest song.
*
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
